Chapter 19: Priest Candidate, the Lost Gray Wolf

In Lynn’s understanding—

A Priest was similar to a Magician, but the source of their power was not magic, but faith!

The purer the faith, the stronger the power of Holy Light that a Priest could wield.

In theory—

This would allow Holy Light Town to have its own spellcaster, fundamentally elevating the town’s foundation and enabling them to better resist the threat of the Undead.

“Unfortunately, the threshold is too high…” Lynn sighed.

First of all, a Priest needed to be a person of extensive knowledge.

The power of Holy Light was not brute strength; one must understand scriptures, rituals, and the meanings of divine symbols.

Secondly, faith must be as firm as iron, or one would not be able to withstand the baptism of Holy Light at all.

Looking across the entire Holy Light Town—

Only that man with the broken glasses, Colin Gilbert, fit the bill.

The former teacher and scholar possessed relatively rich knowledge reserves and clear logical thinking.

He was currently the only Priest candidate.

The others were either farmers or warriors—most of them could barely read.

But what gave Lynn an even greater headache was the cost!

Each time he granted the 【The Canon of Grace】, and a Priest was born, it required 1000 points of Holy Radiance!

“And after last night’s massive consumption, it’s still not enough for 1000 points. I’ll have to keep some Holy Radiance in reserve too.”

Lynn thought helplessly.

Holy Radiance—no matter how much he had, it was never enough.

Everything required it.

Moreover, although Colin was intelligent, his level of faith might not be entirely up to standard yet.

Compared to Liz’s group, he was probably still a notch below.

He thought it might be better to wait a few more days.

Lynn’s divine sense swept toward the window.

The sky was faintly bright.

After a brief rest, some of the physically stronger people were already dealing with the aftermath of last night’s battlefield.

“Damn it! This smell is disgusting!”

Ulf cursed, covering his nose and mouth with a rag as he dragged the half-melted remains of a Ghoul toward a deep pit far from camp.

David and several other men followed behind him, their faces pale, fighting back the urge to vomit as they used crude wooden shovels to clean the filthy ground.

“Move faster!”

“Bury these filthy things deeper!”

Liz, weary but composed, commanded the group while personally doing the work of several people herself.

The children were strictly restricted to relatively clean areas near the church.

Marianne, leading the women and children, had begun another kind of battle—preparing food.

The stoves were reassembled, the limited food supplies carefully rationed, bloodstained and muddy clothes washed, and those injured in last night’s battle tended to.

All of this had to be done amid the thick stench of corpses—it was truly difficult.

“Liz, have some water.”

Colin walked over, holding a bowl of relatively clean melted snow.

The lenses of his glasses were dusty, his face haggard, but his eyes shone with the gratitude of survival and contemplation of the future.

Last night, Colin had personally witnessed a true miracle—and heard the majestic voice of the Angel.

It had completely shaken his long-held worldview!

“Thank you, Colin.”

Liz took the bowl and drained it in one gulp.

The cold liquid slightly eased the dryness in her throat.

“Let everyone rest in turns. This job… won’t be finished in a single day.”

She frowned as she looked at the mountain of corpses in the distance.

Dealing with these filthy remains was even more exhausting—physically and mentally—than the battle itself.

After all, they were not just a visual and olfactory disaster—they could also bring terrifying plagues.

Without doctors, they could only pray to the Angel for healing.

But if they only asked and never gave—

Even the merciful and great Lord would one day grow weary of them.

Liz kept reminding everyone not to become too greedy.

Problems that could be solved by their own hands must be handled themselves—that was the key to a town’s healthy development.

…Time passed slowly amid sweat and stench.

The sun rose from the east, then sank again to the west, dyeing the sky in blood-red hues.

At the edge of the camp, many Ghoul remains still lay unprocessed.

Only now did everyone realize—

Just how many abominations the Angel’s Holy Light had annihilated last night!

A conservative estimate—eight or nine hundred Ghouls!

What a terrifying number!

Under normal circumstances, even if their town’s population were a hundred times larger, they would still have been devoured completely…

At the same time—

In the Mistwood, a team was trudging through the forest with great difficulty.

“Damn it!”

“Have all the Ghouls in this cursed place gone mad?”

A mercenary cursed under his breath, pulling his spear from the eye socket of a Ghoul he had just skewered, bringing out a string of foul-smelling slime.

Panting heavily, he warily scanned the shadowy woods.

They were none other than members of the Gray Wolf Mercenary Corps!

Their captain, Elias Reed, wore a grim expression.

He had been coerced by that viper Carlisle Morgan, forced into this cursed forest to search for the missing cavalry squad and the magician Porter.

However—

The situation was ten times worse than Reed had imagined!

The forest was filled with a frenzied, restless aura.

The number of Ghouls was astonishing, and their behavior—absolutely abnormal!

They no longer lurked or roamed in small groups as before, but rushed about aimlessly like headless flies, attacking any living thing in sight.

They even tore into each other in meaningless violence!

This was nothing like the disciplined control of a higher Undead—it was more like… a mob that had lost its leader’s restraint!

“Stay alert!” Reed growled.

“Back to back! Don’t get separated! Something’s wrong with this forest!”

His battle-hardened instincts sensed danger.

After noticing these abnormalities, he was already planning to retreat from the forest.

At worst, they’d just be hunted by the Morgan family—he could take his brothers and flee for their lives.

It was still better than dying in this eerie forest.

Unfortunately—

They were lost.

Although they were still in the outermost region of the Mistwood, not yet deep enough to be affected by the white miasma, the endlessly similar dense woods still made it impossible to tell direction.

Reed was currently walking along an old, overgrown road—no one knew how many years it had been since it was built—hoping it might lead them out of the forest.

“Boss, it’s getting dark.”

“Should we find somewhere safer to set up camp first?”

His deputy approached, eyes weary.

Reed looked up at the sky barely visible through the thick canopy—the dusk was quickly devouring the last traces of light.

Night in the forest was a true paradise for the Undead!

Where could there possibly be a safe place to camp?

The only way to survive was to leave the forest as soon as possible!

Just as Reed was about to reject the suggestion—

Suddenly—

A faint, broken sound drifted through the forest, carried by the wind.

“…Finally… time… to eat…”

“…Hah… so tired… damn Ghouls… there were so many of them…”

The voices were faint and indistinct, mixed with exhausted breathing.

Reed immediately raised his hand, signaling everyone to stay silent.

The mercenaries held their breath—their very heartbeats seemed to stop.

“Did you hear that?”

Reed whispered, his face filled with disbelief and suspicion.

His deputy and the others exchanged glances—each saw the same shock mirrored in the other’s eyes.

“Human voices?”

The deputy’s whisper was barely audible. “In… in this cursed place, how could there be people?”

They were deep in the Mistwood—far from any known human settlement or trade route.

And Carlisle’s intelligence had never mentioned any inhabitants within the forest.

This sudden sound of living humans felt incredibly eerie in such a place!

“No matter what, we have to check it out!”

Reed quickly made up his mind.

He felt—it might be their one and only chance of survival!

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